


Chad

by poisontaster



Series: AKB Outtakes [14]
Category: Actor RPF, American (US) Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, M/M, Minor Violence, Past Underage, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 22:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14579016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: How Chad enters the AKB Universe.  More or less.





	Chad

**Author's Note:**

> This follows a few months after [Kane (Two and a Half Men)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/677500). Takes place in 1995; Jeff is 29, Chris is 20, Jared is 13.

Chris's ears fill up with whining white noise; he can't even hear the grunt he knows squeezes out of him when he hits the turf. The grass and dirt are only a thin layer over straight up rock, there's not nearly enough give to it, not as hard as Jeff decked him. 

A second blow doesn't happen—not right away—and so Chris lets out his breath, blinks his eyes clear and looks up. Jeff's standing over him, lips moving, pissed as Chris has ever seen him. It takes a sec for Chris's hearing to cut back in, though, hear Jeff goading him: "Get up. Stand up, you son of a bitch, c'mon, fucking _stand up!_ "

Chris sits up and tongues blood from his split lip. Even expecting it, Jeff had caught him good. "You know I can't fight back, right?" 

Like he was hoping, he sees his words strike home; Jeff's chin jerks up and he isn't any less pissed, but his fingers spring wide and that means the hitting's probably done. Probably.

Chris hauls himself up, bowing his shoulders down and tucking his hands in his pockets to make himself smaller. It's only half on purpose, which would be galling if the circumstances were different. As it is, this is going a lot better than he'd expected. Jeff's a soft touch, but he hadn't been totally sure that Jeff wouldn't out and out kill him for this one.

"He's thirteen, man. Fucking _thirteen._."

Chris nods. There's gore on his teeth, too. He swipes his tongue to gather it and spits into the grass. "I know."

"He's a _kid_."

Chris was hanging onto it okay, keeping calm and nodding docilely along, but that makes his teeth clench so tight they squeak in his jaw. "He's not," Chris objects, though it comes out soft, almost gentle. Certainly gentler than Chris feels about it. 

Having backed off a beating, Chris is a little surprised when Jeff lunges for him, knots his big fists in Chris's shirt, pulling it tight across his shoulders and arms, biting into his pits. "What?" Jeff grits, though that's a dry word and probably not appropriate when spit's flecking wet on Chris's cheeks and chin. "What did you say?"

Chris lifts his jaw, because it's not like he didn't know it was going to go down something like this when he started fucking Jared. Jared who, half the time, Jeff treats like a little brother and half the time like a favored pet. 

"He's not a kid," Chris repeats, enunciating as clearly as he ever did in his Commerce training. "I know that's what you see when you look at him, I know that's how you see him, but he's not." 

Jeff's fingers flex tighter and he's honest to God making a sort of growl, but Chris pushes on, because regardless of what Jeff does to him, he needs to get Jeff through this. For Jared's sake, if nothing else. 

"Not in the eyes of the law. Or the eyes of Commerce. Or the rest of the freaking world. Only reason someone hasn't bent Jared over already…" The growl deepens and Jeff gives Chris a little terrier shake. "The _only_ reason someone hasn't _fucked_ Jared already is you wouldn't let that fancy-ass school train him, and you've locked him up tight in this empty-ass house with no one else to work out all those hormones."

"Except you," Jeff snarls, disgusted.

Chris feels tired all of a sudden, like all the blood in his veins has been replaced by dust, an exhausted dust in which nothing could grow. "Yeah, except me, Jeff."

Jeff lets him go, all at once and with a bonus shove, so that Chris's legs criss-cross unsteadily, threatening to dump him on his ass again. 

"This is because I wouldn't fuck you, isn't it?" Jeff's fingers daub roughly on either side of his mouth, smearing the skin out of shape. "To punish me?"

For a moment, Chris can only gape, even with his years of experience telling him: _this is not surprising._

"Are you fucking kidding me? This isn't about _you_ , you dumb, rich asshole! Not everything that happens here is about you!" His frustration overflows; he scoops up a rock from the turf and pitches it hard, out, well-wide of Jeff—who flinches anyway—where it drops over the cliff's edge. "That's the reason we're in this fucked up situation to begin with, because everything in this goddamned house has to revolve around YOU!"

He's never spoken to Jeff like this; hell, he's never spoken to _any_ of his masters like this, but _goddamn_ if it doesn't feel good. 

"He's growing up, Jeff. He's a teenager, with a teenager's raging damned hormones, and all Jared's enormous curiosity and _nothing_ to use it on. You've got this huge, half-empty house," Chris swings his arm off in that direction, "and the three of us rattling around in it, and Jared has nowhere else to go, man. It's just us."

Jeff drags a hand down his face, looking ashy and as though he might vomit. Chris edges back, the incremental and invisible drag he's perfected over the years. A part of him wants to mention himself, to shout at the lunkhead who owns him: _And what about me? I'm a grown fucking man, with a working goddamn dick, what about me?_ But he's not the point. They all know he's not the point. 

"Go away," Jeff says suddenly, viciously, the dangerous voice that makes Chris's stomach wither into a tight, sour stone. "Just… Get the fuck out of my sight for a while."

It's not the end. Chris doesn't make the mistake of thinking it's anything _near_ the end. But it's a reprieve and he wants it. 

Feeling like one of Jeff's dogs, with his tail curled under to protect his balls, Chris slinks off.

***

"I don't want you fucking him anymore," Jeff says, all at once, coming into the library in a rush. Chris doesn't think Jeff's going to hit him again, but he's not so sure of it that his thighs and hands don't clench up tight, bracing against it.

But Jeff stops short of the desk and Chris flattens his fingers out on the blotter, letting them dry up the sweat or hide the shake, whichever it is. "I know," he says, and thank fuck, it comes out calm. Collected. 

Yeah, right. 

"So, what's the plan? And don't tell me you didn't already have a plan in mind before you ratted yourself out. I know at least that much."

Fair enough. Chris digs through the pile on the desk until he finds the folder he wants and hands it off to Jeff. 

"He's close to Jared's age. He's smart and good looking enough that he _should_ be a body-slave, except he got batched as defective before he was even indentured—" Chris gestures for Jeff to flip the page and read the physical specs of the scar that ruined the boy's worth even as it saved his life, "and so he's rattling around unskilled labor for a fraction of what he'd otherwise be worth, especially given his age. It's a good investment."

Jeff's gaze flickers and Chris sighs.

"Jeff. It's not just that he's cheap. He's priced to sell."

Jeff makes a noise, simultaneously disgruntled and thoughtful. "And so that's your plan? I buy you another—a _different_ —young slave, to keep your hands off Jared?" He tosses the file back on the desk, scoffing. "I thought I'd taught you more about putting together a good deal than that."

"How are you so…?" Chris lets the rest of that thought hiss away through his teeth, remembering what thin ice he's already on. "No," he says, striving for patience though he's pretty sure the _you moron_ bleeds into his tone anyway. "He's not for _me_. He's for Jared."

Jeff stares at Chris. Chris has no idea what's going on in there. 

"Look, man, you're the goddamn bleeding liberal here. You like saving slaves; I'm giving you a slave to save."

"By buying Jared a sex toy?"

For fuck's sake… "I want you to buy Jared _a friend_."

Chris rakes a hand through his hair, willing to baby-step Jeff through this, if that's what it takes, but hating every second of it. "That's what's wrong with the kid, that's how he ended up in bed with me," Chris says. "He's social. He likes people. A lot. No…he _needs_ people. He's lonely. If you don't give a fuck about anything else, give a fuck about that."

Jeff's mouth twists and he crosses his arms in the way that means he's really listening. "Okay, talk me through it."

Chris shrugs. "Jared needs a friend. Obviously, you'd prefer someone around his own age. Kid's not bad looking and if it all works out, there's nothing that says two slaves can't fuck each other."

 _No law, anyway,_ Chris thinks, tucking his tongue carefully in his cheek. But for as pissed as Jeff is, it's not about sex, it's about Jared. Jeff might end up selling Chris off, but Chris doesn't think he's going to end up gelded—or worse—for so-called 'property damage'. 

"It's not just about Jared, though," Jeff says, and suddenly his gaze is too sharp. Fuck, Chris always forgets that part. _You_ want me to buy this kid. Why?"

Chris shrugs again. "Like I said: if you want to go around saving slaves, he'd be a good start. Because otherwise he's going to disappear on someone's estate and no one from Commerce is going to bother to ask any questions." Chris hesitates artfully, then plays his hole card. "Besides, Jared helped me pick him out. He was Jared's top choice."

Jeff's mouth curves up in something too wry to be a smile. "Low blow. I told you you're getting good at this." 

He reaches and takes the file from the desk again, actually reading the provenance this time. "Jesus, the kid sold himself into slavery to keep his dad from taking the hit. What the everloving fuck. How is that even possible?"

Chris spreads his hands. "Child 'advocates' that stand in as legal guardian, if there's a conflict."

Jeff shakes his head, a line writing itself across his forehead. It's been there more and more lately, starting to engrave itself in. "Okay, yeah. We're doing this. I presume you can take care of the arrangements?"

"Yeah." Chris leans back in his chair, feeling oddly smug for a guy that just cut off the only source of sex in his life. "I got it."

"Good." Jeff closes the folder yet again, but without the dismissal of the previous. "One more thing."

"What's that?" It's not often anymore Jeff can startle him; Chris's weight crashes the chair back to upright. 

"You said this kid—Chad—was Jared's top choice. I want to see the others."


End file.
